MYOB
by siobhane
Summary: Squall learns Ellone is seeing his sworn enemy. In the middle of dinner. Awkward. (Not so fluffy fluff prompt, for emeraldlatias)


In retrospect, there were signs something was going on, but Squall chose to ignore them. It was too weird, too implausible, but there were sings that he should have paid attention to and didn't.

The first, was the dress Ellone chose to wear to Laguna's 50th birthday celebration, a ridiculously formal affair, considering Laguna delivered his most recent State of the Union address in khaki shorts and sandals with black socks instead of traditional Estharian robes.

But that dress – it was scandalous. Hot red, plunging neckline, very nearly backless, practically slit up to her navel and so eye-catching, it turned the head of every man in the room when she walked in the door.

It was unlike her to flaunt it this way, and Squall was tempted to say something, but Ellone was a grown woman, his senior by five years, and if it made her happy, so be it.

No. It wasn't just the dress. There was something different about her demeanor, too. A bit more confidence? Something secretive in her smile?

He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was up.

She sat next to him during dinner. Seifer, inexplicably chose the seat directly across from him. Squall could only assume it was a means to make this dinner more uncomfortable than it needed to be, and Squall noticed every time his gaze drifted to the low cut front of Ellone's dress.

The third or fourth time he caught Seifer staring, Squall accidentally kicked him under the table, then pretended it wasn't him. It was petty, but he took perverse satisfaction in knowing the steel toe of his boot left a mark on Seifer's shin. What was he even doing here, anyway?

As the main course was served, something brushed against the inside of Squall's calf. At first, he was sure it was unintentional, but then the hem of his dress slacks were pushed halfway up to his knee and there were definitely sock-clad toes stroking his leg.

 _Ugh_.

It wasn't Rinoa. For one, she wasn't wearing socks tonight, and two, she was at the far end of the table, acting as a safety buffer between Selphie and Laguna. Unless her Sorceress powers included the ability to develop super stretchy arms and extend her limbs well beyond the natural limits of physics, then the offender wasn't her.

Across the table, Seifer's expression was smug, and his eyes were locked on Ellone, who chatted with Quistis about a recent teacher's strike in Galbadia, as if Seifer wasn't staring a hole through her head.

The foot grew bolder and more insistent and Squall lifted the table cloth, peered under the table to find his suspicions confirmed. He kicked Seifer in the ankle this time and sat back up to glare. Just who the hell did Seifer think he was fondling, anyway?

 _Not-_

"Mind explaining why you're trying to molest me with your foot, Almasy? I'm not interested."

- _not Elle_

"Aww, shit," Seifer said, flicked his eyes at Ellone, and turned redder than Squall had ever seen him. "Damn it."

- _oh, god_

Beside him, Ellone turned red, too. And then started to laugh. A giggle she tried to hide behind her hand, and then and uncontrollable cackle. The louder she laughed, the redder Seifer got.

He glanced between his convulsed sister and his childhood rival as it dawned on him, the game of footsie was not Seifer's attempt to come on to him. It was intended for Ellone.

"What the hell?" Squall asked as he rose to his feet to glare down at Ellone in her flaming red gown. He jabbed his finger in Seifer's general direction. "Him? You wore that dress for _him_?"

Ellone's laughter died out and she stood, toe to toe with Squall and narrowed her eyes.

"Who says I wore this dress for anyone but myself?" she asked. "And it isn't your business who I sleep with."

Seifer made a choked sound that drew Squall's attention back to him. Only then was Squall aware that every eye in the room was on the three of them. Seifer's slow, triumphant smirk was the end of Squall's composure. He launched himself across the table and tackled Seifer to the floor with a mighty roar of rage.

It wasn't about Ellone's dignity. It wasn't about her virtue. In most cases, Squall couldn't care less who Ellone dated or shared her bed with. It was about Seifer's motives, which Squall was 99% sure didn't include anything but the bragging right of getting into Ellone's pants.

They wrestled on the floor, Seifer laughing and Squall snarling under his breath, an old-school brawl straight out of their cadet days, until someone dumped something icy cold over Squall's head. He gasped and sat up as Ellone tossed aside a plastic pitcher and put her hands on her hips.

"What in Hyne's name do you think you're doing?"

Beneath him, Seifer cackled. "I think you need to cool off."

Squall punched him in the nose, which wiped the smirk right off his face.

"Grow up, both of you!" Ellone shouted. "Ward? A little help please?"

Squall backed off as Ward silently hauled Squall to his feet and not-so gently guided him out the doors of the ballroom.

Ellone stormed out behind him, her cheeks red and her hair coming undone from it's elegant knot.

"Way to embarrass me, Squall!" she shouted. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Why would you do that?" she asked.

Squall looked up at his naive, sheltered Sis and sighed. "He's only doing this to piss me off."

Ellone smacked Squall with her clutch purse. It hurt more than Squall let on.

"Always about you, isn't it?" she asked. "It couldn't just be because, I don't know, he finds me attractive or anything. No, it's all because the whole world revolves around poor, precious Squall."

"I didn't say that," Squall said. "But, I know Seifer, Elle. There's nothing he'd love more than to be able to say, _I'm bangin' your Sis, Leonhart! In your face!_ "

Ellone hit him with her purse again, this time, upside the head.

"Even if that's true, it's still none of your business!"

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Squall said. "And damn it, stop hitting me. That actually does, you know, _hurt._ "

Ellone took a deep breath and dropped her hands to her sides. She appeared to be counting to ten or otherwise finding her calm, happy place in order to avoid pummeling him to death with a beaded clutch bag.

"You don't get any say in who I see, or what I wear," she said. "And it's never bothered you before."

"Elle, if it were anyone else in the world, I wouldn't care," Squall said. "I mean I would, but..."

She laid her hands on his forearms and sighed.

"Squall, stop."

"Just please tell me there's more to it than just, you know..." Squall trailed off. "Never mind. Not my business. I know. Sorry."

"You're right. It isn't."

They stood together in silence for a minute before Squall's tension eased and he realized what a damn idiot he was. Ellone didn't tell him what to do or who he couldn't date, and it wasn't fair to do that to her, no matter how questionable this particular choice.

"If he does anything to hurt you," Squall began.

"Squall, I don't need you to kill him. I'll survive."

"Actually, I was going to say," he said with a wry smile, "I'll help you hide the body."

* * *

Notes: Another Tumblr prompt gone too long. This one is for Emeraldlatias! I'm not sure if anyone considers this fluff, but it's pretty ridiculous, per the prompt instructions. :) 3


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